


To Be Brave Like You

by saemi_mitsuwa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Colonial!America, Empire!England, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saemi_mitsuwa/pseuds/saemi_mitsuwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a near drowning incident, Empire!England decides to teach Colonial!America how to swim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written before it was general knowledge that England can't swim. Original Publication Date: 05-31-10

America sat on the front steps to his home, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. Before him stood two neighborhood boys, one from a family of farmers, the other the son of a ripper, who brought freshly-caught fish from the coastal waters inland for local markets.

"Aw come on Al, Mr. Kirkland ain't gonna notice!" said the farmers' boy, whose hair was a chocolate brown and skin covered in freckles. "You say so yourself,  _he's always in his office_ , right?"

"But…" America bit his lip. "I'm already in trouble from last time…"

"What? From that time you went on the roof?" The ripper's boy giggled, his brilliant red hair cut short and jagged, with skin darkened by the sun. "I wish I'd seen you standin' up there."

America frowned. "Can't we just stay around here?"

"What's the matter?" The freckled boy leaned forward. "Too  _scared_?"

"N-No!" America sputtered. "I just… I don't think this is a good idea…"

"Hah! Yer  _scared_!" laughed the red haired boy. "Just admit it!"

America jumped up suddenly. "I am not!"

"Then  _prove_ it."

Both boys stared at him, waiting for his answer.

America glanced at the two of them.  _I know this is a bad idea… but… they'll think I'm a coward if I don't go…_!

"Alright!" America stared at the two boys with a firm stare of determination. "I'll go."

 

* * *

 

 

"You know the story right? About that boat at the bottom o' the lake?"

America shuddered inwardly, but stood tall. "Yes, I've heard."

"All you do is row this boat to the middle of the lake, right where the water ain't brown no more, and you throw the anchor over the side." The farmer's boy explained. "After it touches the bottom, you jump in the water and swim down to the bottom.  _That's_  where the boat wreck is-"

"How did a boat get wrecked in the middle of a lake?" America asked suddenly, wondering how something so unfortunate could happen. "I mean… it couldn't be a  _big_  boat-"

"It was the natives!" The farmer's boy said confidently. "My brother told me."

" _Nah_  I bet it was that old louse that lives down the road." The red haired boy confided. "My pa says she's a  _witch_."

America couldn't help but roll his eyes at their accusations.  _It isn't the natives and that old lady isn't a witch… even though… I don't really know_ _ **how**_ _I know that…_

"Well… I just have to row out and swim down to the boat wreck?" America confirmed once more, shoving thoughts of the cold dark water to the back of his mind. "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it." The ripper's boy smiled. "But I bet you won't do it."

"What?" America glared at him. "I said I would!"

"Ah,  _nah_ , I bet yer just a  _coward_. A little  _chicken_."

America clenched his fists and marched down the sandy lake-side beach to the row boat.  _I'll show_ _ **you**_ _coward._ Rubbing his hands together, America easily pushed the boat into the water and, once it was afloat, climbed into the row boat. Clenching the oars, he moved them in a circular fashion, pushing the water out behind the boat, driving himself forward. A fluttering sensation filled his chest as America stared at the brown, murky water.

After rowing for what seemed hours, America finally came to the area where the water seemed clearer, more blue than brown. After tying the anchor to the boat, he picked it up with ease and dropped it over the side, where it  _plunked_ into the water and rapidly descended to the depths below. Swallowing the lump back down his throat, America gripped the side of the boat, took in steady, deep breaths and tried to forget the nagging alarm bells ringing in his head.

_As long as I hold the anchor line, then I can just pull myself down, touch… whatever it there is to touch, then pull myself back up to the boat. I'll be like climbing a tree!_  America nodded firmly in obvious reassurance.  _This'll be easy… and even though I can't swim,_  he swallowed thickly at this thought.  _I'll show those boys that I'm brave!_  A tiny smile crept upon his face.  _A brave_ _ **hero**_ _, just like England._

A cold shiver crept up his spine, despite the warm spring weather.  _It's not like swimming at all… it's just like climbing! Only… it's underwater-_

"Well are ya' gonna swim down or you gonna sit there like a coward?" hollered the farmer's boy from the shore line.

"I… I'll do it! Just give me a second, will ya?" America yelled back, angry at the quiver in his voice. "Just give me a second…"

America stared at the murky blue water and tried peering beyond the surface.  _How deep is this lake, anyway?_  America clenched the side of the boat until the wood splintered.  _I can't think about that! It's just like climbing a tree… just like climbing a tree…_

Repeating that mantra, America stepped over the side and slid into the water, which was far colder than he ever expected. The air rushed from his lungs in a gasp and a violent shiver took hold of his arms and legs. Swallowing, America clung to the anchor rope, his fingers squeezing the life out of the tightly wound rope. His feet hung below him in the water, floating freely, the bottom of the lake nowhere near touching his-

_I can't think like that!_  America tried breathing calmly and deeply, but it felt as if his lungs were made of iron, unable to stretch and expand.  _I'll just climb down, touch it, and climb back up. It'll be simple!_  America clenched his teeth tightly, took a deep breath, and plunged under the water's surface.

Opening his eyes, he was met with nothing but a brown murky color, the sunlight illuminating little. Clutching the rope, America started pulling himself down, the murky color growing thicker, the sunlight growing fainter. Still he pressed on, utterly determined to prove his bravery.

_How deep is this lake? It can't be much further-_

A faint outline of an overturned boat came into view, with leafy plants and a green glaze covered the rotted wood. Quickening his pace, America pulled himself downward until the boat was just before him. Keeping one hand firmly clutching the anchor line, America reached forward to touch the boat when he noticed the line coming from a jagged hole in the hull of the boat.  _My anchor… it must have crashed through the wood when it fell down._  Narrowing his eyes, and ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs, America peered through the hole where his anchor had crashed through. Clutching a jagged wooden edge, America tried tearing a piece of wood off when something grazed across his hand. Fear crashed through him and in his surprise, kicked his feet to push himself away.

His right foot crashed through the wood of the hull.

Fear growing and boiling in his gut, America tried yanking his foot from the newly formed hole.  _Oh god please come on, come on_ _ **please**_ _-_

It was stuck.

Desperation crashed through him and America let go of the anchor line to widen the hole. Digging his fingers into the jagged wooden edges, he tried prying the wood away, but had no leverage to balance his strength on. The burning in his lungs becoming nearly unbearable, America flung his arms out, blindly searching for the anchor line when his lungs seized and contracted. The last reserves of air gushed up his throat, exploding past his lips and floating upwards. Water filled his throat and flooded his lungs. White hot pain surrounded him, his chest burning as if it were on fire.

His vision blurred and faded.

 

* * *

 

 

At the lake shore, the two boys stood waiting. The ripper's son stared at the empty boat, his chapped lips slowly turning downward into a frown.

"Hey… Al's been down there a while-"

"You worry too much." The farmer's boy kicked at a pebble. "He'll be coming up any second now."

The red haired boy continued to frown, obviously not liking the long wait. He stared at the boat, searching for any signs of movement when the water to the side of the boat suddenly gushed and bubbled.

"H-hey! Look-!" The ripper's son pointed to the bubbling. "Hey Al! Ya made it!"

The farmer boy rushed to the edge of the water and peered at the boat. "Aw he ain't come up yet."

"But I saw bubbles!" the ripper's son jabbed a finger at the boat. "At the side! I  _know_ I saw them! _"_

"But… it's nothin'-"

"It's been a while!" The red haired boys face fell into a distressed gawking stare. "What if he's stuck? What if he's  _drownin_ '?"

The farmer boy grew quiet in worry.

"W-we… we gotta tell someone."

 

* * *

 

 

England sat hunched over his desk, pouring his focus into a series of important documents regarding local trade. A cup of tea sat beside the ink well, having long grown cold in the waning hours of the morning. Leaning back into the spine of the chair with a sigh, he brought his hands to his temples and rubbed at them, hoping to will the strain and ache away.  _Where is America, anyway?_ The morning had been relatively quiet, and when that was mixed with the tiny colony…  _I'd better check on him._

England stood, taking a moment to stretch and work the kinks from his back when a loud pounding came from the front door.

"Mr. Kirkland! Mr. Kirkland!"

"What in the-…" England sighed and felt his headache returning in full force. "Coming, I'm coming…"

_Probably another courier calling me to town for some crisis I have to solve…_

Shaking his head softly, England left his office and stepped down the stairs, the pounding and yelling at the door only increasing in volume.

"Mr. Kirkland  _please_ -!"

England unlocked the door and flung it open, finding a local boy standing at his doorstep. "What -?"

"It's Alfred! He's- he's in trouble!"

England narrowed his gaze.  _What the hell has that boy gotten himself into_ _ **now**_ _-?_

"What is it?"

The boy trembled and gasped for air, his cheeks red and tear streaked. "He-… we-… I-"

"Calm down." England grasped the boys shoulder. "Take a deep breath."

"I…" The boy took in a deep, shuddering breath. "Al…Alfred's…"

"Alfred's  _what_? Come out with it!"

The boy choked, gasping and hyper ventilating as tears streaked past his cheeks.

"Alfred's drowned!"

 

* * *

 

 

England ran up the road to the lake, his boots pounding into the dirt. The minute the boy uttered those words, scarcely a second passed before he lunged into a full, unabashed sprint. Adrenaline pumped though his body as his heart pounded against his ribs. He didn't want to think of the possibility of his precious colony never reviving. He didn't want to think of America, always smiling and playing outside with his faithful rabbit companion, Poppy, face down in the water... He didn't want to think of those sky-blue eyes never opening again-England immediately forced the thought from his head and took a sharp right turn, streaking past trees and bushes, glimpses of the lake just appearing through the trees, his focus solely on rescuing his colony.

Another local boy stood at the beach. The boy turned at England's sudden appeared, his face stricken. "The boat! He dove under the boat and never came up again!"

"Leave!" England tore his shoes off and flung them to the ground. "If you don't want to be blamed for this, then  **leave**!"

_If you see America looking… dead… then reviving-_  England shuddered, hating to even think of such a thing.

The boy continued to stand with his feet rooted to the ground. "But…but-"

England unbuttoned his shirt, nearly tearing it off. "If you don't leave  _right now_ -!"

The boy gasped and fled into the woods at England's half growled order.

England ran into the lake, his pace slowing down considerably as he pushed his legs though the shallow, nearly freezing, water. Once the water came to his hips, he sunk into the water and started swimming across the lake, the boat gradually growing larger as he neared. Gasping and spitting lake water from his mouth, he pushed and kicked the murky water behind him, ignoring the burning sensation from the frigid water.

_Oh please America, please…_  England finally touched the boat and grasped the anchor line.  _He's_ _ **still**_ _down there…?_

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took in a deep breath and dove under the waters surface. Pointing his hands out before him, he cupped his fingers and forcefully shoved the water behind him, kicking his legs and pushing himself deeper and deeper until the faint outline of a young boy came into view. With a renewed burst of energy, England kicked and swam harder and faster, until America floated limply before him, his skin pale and tinged in blue. Sweeping his eyes over him, he found the cause of the problem: America's foot was caught in a tiny hole in the rotted, sunken boat. Pushing himself closer, he grasped America's trapped ankle and found it covered in cuts; being heavily lacerated from the sharp wooden points in the hole.

_America… you really fought hard to free yourself._  Clenching his teeth tight, and shoving his worry away, he clenched one side of the hole and raised his foot, slamming it down to the opposite end. The wood splintered, freeing America's foot from its grasp. Pushing away, England threaded his arm under America's armpits, wrapping his arm around his chest. Planting his feet on the boat, England pushed off, kicking and using his free arm to push himself away from the murky depths of the lake. The sunlight gradually grew brighter in intensity until England's head broke through the surface.

Gasping, he kicked to the boat and grasped the side, shoving America over the side and into the boat with oddly practiced skill. Clenching the side, he picked himself up and over, sliding himself into the boat. Instantly he was at America's side, smearing the hair from his face and pressing an ear to his chest and fingers to the hollow of his throat.

_Damnit_!

England yanked his head away and flattened his right palm to America's chest. Tilting the boys head back to open the airway, England shoved his palm into the chest, using short, quick compressions.

_I just need to get your heart beating again-!_

Filling his mouth with air, England pressed his mouth to America's blue lips and breathed the air down the throat. He repeated this a second time and resumed the awkward compressions until a tiny movement caught his eye. Halting all movement, England pressed his fingers to America's throat, finding his heart beating once more. The muscles in his throat contracted, muscle spasms contracted his chest and America threw up mouthfuls of water. A haggard, hissing breath sucked past his lips until it suddenly stopped and America keeled over once more, vomiting another mouthful of water onto the floor of the boat.

"Nguuh!" America gasped greedily and trembled, his chest heaving and taking in the glorious air. "Ahh~"

Minutes passed before his breathing came under control.

America slowly turned around.

England glared at him, his hands pressed to his knees, his fingers digging into the skin. Red faced and livid, England trembled, his green eyes nearly glowing in fury.

America shrank under the intimidating gaze, trembling.

The elder nations mouth worked, his teeth grinding and clicking together.

"What… in the  _nine hells_  were you  **thinking**?" England growled through clenched teeth. "What…  _possessed you_ … to do such a  _stupid_ act!?"

"I-…I-…" Face crumbling under the elder nations gaze, America lost all control of his emotions. "I didn't want to be a coward! I-…I wanted to be…"

Tears flooded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. "I w-wanted-"

A hiccup interrupted him, and he choked back a sob. "I wanted to be brave l-like you-!"

He sniffed at the snot running from his nose and tried wiping the mess from his face.

"Brave?!" England stared back, his knuckles white and trembling from the strain of clenching his knees. "You-… you-"  _…foolish, thick-headed, idiotic boy!_

America winced, expecting something profane to spill past his lips.

"-you stupid,  _stupid_  boy!" England suddenly lurched forward and gripped America's shoulders. "Do you have  _any_  idea how worried I was?!"

America looked at him suddenly, his blue eyes impossibly wide.

"I-I thought I'd…" England's mouth snapped shut and he flung his arms around America, burying his face into the boy's wet hair, smelling the scent of warmth and wheat and everything uniquely  _America_. America responded in turn, burying his head into England's bare chest; his tiny hands and arms wrapped around him. Both taking comfort in each other's warm, familiar presence.

England clung to the boy, relief flooding him. "I thought I'd  _lost_  you. I thought… I…"

"I'm sorry..." America said into his chest with a sob. "I'm sorry, England."

England sighed and released one arm from America, rubbing his hand over America's round head comfortingly.

"…Just-… please just don't ever scare me like this again. Please."

… _I don't think my heart can take it._

 

* * *

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a near drowning incident, England decides to teach America how to swim.

Darkness surrounded him.

Thick and choking, it felt  _alive_. The frozen touches ran up his arms and legs, slowly covering his body. He jerked his hands away, and looked up. A pinprick of light glistened and shimmered in the distance. Desperate, he reached for the light, but the dark hands seized him once more. Touching him and pulling him down into the abyss. Fear seized him, filling his chest and squeezing his heart.

"No! Stop! Let go!"

His cries were all in vain. The light twinkled, shimmering violently.

"No! Don't go away!"

His arms and legs grew numb. A frozen chill covering his skin and sapping his strength.

"Please!" Cold tears burned his cheeks. "Don't go!"

The light shivered and went out.

 

* * *

 

 

America awoke with a sobbing gasp. Breathing heavily, he sat up and drew the bed sheets up to his neck. His wide, teary blue eyes glanced about the room.

He was in his bedroom. Rain pattered against the window pane.

Fear still stabbed at his chest.  _The moon is gone… the rain clouds are keeping it away…_  Dark shadows filled his room.

Quivering, his dug his fingers into the bed sheets. "…England?" His voice called, barely a whisper. "E-England?"

Only the sound of rain hitting the roof and striking the window answered.

Sniffling, he bit his lip and tried to keep the quivering shivers from taking over. Swallowing the lump of fear back down his throat, he gripped his goose-feather pillow, hugging it to his chest, and slowly slid off the bed. His nightgown rode up slightly, letting the warmth from the bed escape. Cold air touched his back legs and bare back. Squeaking, he stepped away from the bed, yanking his nightgown back down. He clutched the pillow to his chest, using it as a shield.

Minutes passed before he gained the bravery to move from the corner he hid himself in and step across the room to the door. He tried not to look at the dark, scary shadows the filled every inch of his room.

Gripping the handle, America poked his head out into the hall.

"England?"

The rain continued fall.

Sighing, he squeezed through the crack between the door and the frame and, hugging the wall, stepped down the hallway. He kept the pillow pressed to his chest, determined that it was the same as his bed sheets, and that if anything scary appeared, all he had to do was cover his face with his pillow, and nothing could ever hurt him.

_That's what England always says._

The room suddenly filled with light. A deafening explosion of sound ripped through the air, and darkness filled his vision once more.

His nerves already frazzled from the dream, he half-shouted, half-screamed in surprise. Clutching the pillow to his face, he ran down the hall blindly, exploding through England's double doors and colliding into the side of his bed. Gasping, he fell to the floor and scrambled under the bed.

A groan came from somewhere in the room.

America curled into a ball, fear seizing him, and pressed his face into the pillow. Tears spilled from his puffy blue eyes and streamed down his cheeks, where they were then absorbed by the pillow. The bed creaked, and lightening lit up the room again, blinding him momentarily. Darkness flooded the room again, followed by another explosion of sound.

Something touched his arms and America gasped a shout of surprise, a fresh batch of tears flooding his face.

"Shh, Shh, America its  _me_ ~"

England's voice. The grip on his arm, once scary, was now warm and comforting. America threw the pillow away and scrambled out from under the bed, burying his face into England's chest and throwing his arms around him. England returned the hug, wrapped him in a warm, protective embrace.

"It's just a thunderstorm, America. Nothing is going to hurt you."

England's hands rubbed his back and shoulders. America tried holding his sobs in, trying to be brave,  _just like England would be_ , but they exploded past his lips in a choked sob. Hot tears burned his eyes and soaked his face.

The arms tightened around him, and England stood, taking America with him. Grunting softly, he carefully set him on the edge of the bed and withdrew his arms from him. Fear came rushing back, America gripped England's arms in a death grip, forgetting his strength in his terrified worry.

"D-don't go! Don't leave me! The-… the shadows…!"

England paused, tensing at the pain coming from America's grip. "A-America, I'm not leaving you." His voice was soft and patient, yet steady and unwavering. "I'm only going to get something to wipe your face."

America sniffled, fingers quivering. "Oh… s-sorry…"

He released England, who attempted a crooked smile at him and moved across the room where a porcelain wash basin sat with a cotton cloth lying beside it. Taking the cloth, he dipped it into the water, allowing it to soak up the liquid before raising it and squeezing the excess. Turning, he stepped back to the bedside where America sat, gasping and sniffling softly. Sitting beside him, England pressed the cool, wet cloth to his face, wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks, pressing the cool cloth to his forehead and rubbing it over his temples before taking it away.

America clung to England's side, pressing his face to his ribs and wrapping his arms around his waist.

England took it all in stride, setting the damp cloth on the bedside table and scooting back into the bed, until he lay with America pressed against his side. America closed his eyes and breathed in. England's smell surrounded him, the scent of green plants and fresh spring buds, salt of the ocean and old sweat of hard work.

England lifted his head, pounding his pillow into a more comfortable shape before lying back down. His voice was quiet, and unwavering.

"Do you want to talk about it?" England said, already knowing what caused the incident.

America cuddled against the elder nation, enjoying the protective warm feeling that surrounded him.

"…Had a nightmare." America bit his lip, feeling self-conscious. "It was all dark… and I was underwater."

England squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"There was a light… and I tried going towards it… but something pulled me deeper and deeper…" America shuddered at the memory.

"Well, it was only a nightmare." England declared, squeezing his shoulder again. "And they can never hurt you, just like I've told you before."

"But…" America frowned, sitting up from the bed to stare at the elder nation. "What if something like that happens again? What if-"

"It won't." England shushed him, his green eyes glazed over with exhaustion. "Because tomorrow I'm going to teach you how to swim."

The fear fled from America's blue-eyed stare.

" _Really_?"

England chuckled softly, his familiar crooked smile spreading across his face.

"Yes,  _really_."

England pulled him back down to the bed. America gladly complied, returning to cuddle against his ribs and rest his head upon his shoulder. England wrapped his arm around the smaller nation, relaxing at the heat the small boy gave off.

"Good night, England."

A snore answered him. America smiled and closed his eyes.

_I love you._

 

* * *

 

 

"Don't be afraid, America."

England stood waist deep in the lake water, holding his arms out in a beckoning manner.

"I'm right here."

America stood trembling on the beach, his arms pressed to his sides, his fingers clenching and unclenching the cloth of his trousers.

"You… you won't leave me? You won't let go?"

"I'm teaching you how to  _swim_." England stared at him, flabbergasted. "Why would I leave you alone?"

England's coat, shirt, shoes and stockings were resting on the lake-side beach, only his trouser's were still covering him. America wore much of the same. The water just barely covered his feet, it felt cold and refreshing.

After a moment, he took a step forward, them another, the water slowly moving up his legs.

"That's it…" England coaxed, keeping his voice soft and patient. "I'll be with you the entire time."

America stopped once the water reached his waist. "I…I don't wanna go out any further."

England hesitated, and then moved closer to America.

"That's a good start." He said comfortingly. Reaching forward, he took America's hands into his own and moved them through the water. "Feel the water moving through your fingers?"

America nodded, his blue eyes transfixed on his fingers. The previous fearful nervousness melted at England's touch.

"Now press your fingers together, curl your fingers in as if you were to cup the water-  _that's_  it…" England pushed the boy's hands through the water once more. "Do you feel that resistance?"

"Yeah…" America stared at his hands. "It feels like I'm pushing the water away. Like…I can carry it?"

"The water isn't something to be afraid of, see?" England moved America's hands around again. "You can use it to help you swim."

America peered at his hands, and then looked up to England, his blue eyes curiously vibrant.

"Who taught you how to swim?"

"Who  _taught_  me?" England questioned, looking almost offended. "No one  _taught_  me."

America's mouth fell open. "But how do you know all of this?" An alarmed, troubled look flooded his face.

"I knew because I am an island nation." England explained. "Island nations know how to swim by instinct."

"…Instinct?" America frowned. He'd never heard  _that_  word before.

" _Instinct_  is the way people or animals naturally react or behave, without having to think or learn about it." England said in his  _teacher_  voice. "It just comes to you without thinking."

"Ohh… are all Island nations like that?"

England nodded.

"Now," England began. "Enough about that."

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was starting its slow descent towards sunset. A cloudless sky loomed over head; the light blue hue turning varies shades of pink, purple and green.

America never had so much fun with England before. He never gave up an entire day before. A morning or afternoon, but always the minute playtime was finished, he would disappear into the office for  _work_. The two spent hours in the lake. First England let America splash around, blowing bubbles underwater, kissing his legs through the water's surface, and then he learned how to float. Now he swam almost as well as England, kicking his legs and moving his arms through the water.

America stopped short of running into England's abdomen, raised his arms, and splashed a great wave at the elder nations head.

England coughed and sputtered, his blond hair soaked and pressed flat to his head. He grew very quiet, his gaze narrowing.

_Oh no…I shouldn't of done that. He's probably angry and gonna yell at me and-_

England's frown suddenly twisted into a crooked smirk. He rose one arm and splashed America back, sending a wave of dark murky water into his face. America coughed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Hey!"

" _What_?" England stared at him, the smirk still plastered across his face. "Afraid of a little splash?"

"What?" America stared at him, his hair soaked and pressed to his skull, save for the single stubborn cowlick. " _Afraid_?"

"That's what I said,  _boy_."

"I ain't afraid!" America yelled suddenly, his cheeks flushing. "And I ain't a boy!"

England bit the inside of his cheek, the "I'm not" already on his tongue. Instead he raised a brow and leveled a look he kept reserved for his days spent sailing at the small colony.

"Is that so,  _boy_?"

America frowned, raised his hands and splashed England as hard as he could. England smiled and splashed back. America returned the splash, and soon the water was foaming at the waves and splashes being thrown back and forth. America giggled and squeaked, while England laughed, a rare genuine grin spread across his face.

"My splashes are bigger!" America half-yelled, half-giggled, soaking England with a particularly large wave.

"But my splashes get you where it counts," England said while splashing water at America's open mouth, who grimaced and sputtered, spitting the mouthful of water out.

The two finally came to a stop, both gasping and smiling.

A strangled gasp came from the shore. Both turned to the sound.

A young woman stood posed by the lone boat dock, a wooden bucket in hand.

England immediately sunk into the water, embarrassment coming off him in waves. America only stared at the woman and tried to remember her name, ignoring his half dressed state.

"L-lord…Kirkland…?" The woman said shakily. "That… is that you?"

England only sunk further into the water, his face slowly turning red.

Tense silence passed.

"What… what are you two doing in the lake… w-without your clothes…?" The lady asked in a shaky voice, her eyes darting to the heap of clothing still lying on the beach. "L-lord…Kirkland?"

England sighed, his shoulders visibly wilting. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened to finally answer her question.

"Ms. Maryann!" America yelled suddenly, eyes wide with the realization of remembering her name. "What are  _you_  doing here?"

The lady gaped openly. "I…I'm getting water for my final round of laundry…but…what-"

"Aw~ you must be hot from doing that all afternoon! Why don't you join us?"

America stood up from the water and his trousers nearly fell off, the cloth utterly waterlogged. He grasped at the waistline, trying to tug it back up to keep himself decent.

"Am-…Alfred!" England lunged forward and jerked his trousers back on. "What the  _hell_  is wrong with you?"

America's smiling face fell. "But… I thought she was hot and sweaty so I-"

A scream came from the beach. England and America both turned to stare in surprise as the girl fled the dock, leaving her wooden pail behind. England turned white and slowly fell backward into the water. His hands rose to cover his face as he floated away.

America stared at England's white face and depressed reaction.  _England's never been like_ _ **this**_ _before… did I do something wrong?_

"England…England?" America called, swimming after him. "What's wrong? Why are you doing this?" He reached for England's hands and tugged them away from his face, deciding he didn't like it when England did that, as it reminded him of the dark, brooding expression England held when he first met him. "Stop doing that."

"Everyone will think I was swimming naked,  _with you_ , in the lake by tomorrow morning." He moaned. "I won't be able to show my face back in town for  _days_ …maybe even  _weeks…_ "

"But..." America stared at him, his face screwed up in confusion. "What's wrong with swimming?"

"It's not swimming that's the problem," England said quickly, moving from his prone, floating position to standing in the chest deep water. "It's… we're not, ah,  _properly dressed_."

America stared at him. "What's wrong with our trousers?"

_…I don't understand why England is so upset about this… we're only swimming! And my trousers cover everything that's important… right?_

"Just…" England flexed his fingers and chewed the inside of his cheek. "You see...it's not proper to swim with  _only_  our trousers on."

"Why?"

"Well…" England slowly moved towards the sandy shore, America followed after him, his blue eyes glued on England's vibrant green gaze. "You know how it's improper for women to go around in public without their, ah, chests covered… the same is for us." England swallowed audibly and forced himself to look at the shore where their pile of clothes were.

America followed after him.

"But… why?"  _Why do they need to have their chests covered_ _ **anyways**_ _?_  "I don't understand. Aren't girls the same as boys?"

England twitched and made a half gasping, half choking sound. Slowly, he turned around to stare at America. His cheeks were now blazing red, the color slowly spreading to his ears and neck.

America stared back, his eyes wide, filled with both confusion and curiosity.

"Ah…" England cleared his throat and looked away. "You'll find out when you're older."

"What?" America's curious face fell. "Why?"

"Because."

"But Englaaaaaannnnd~~" America whined and splashed water at him. "I want to know  _now_!"

"Your too young to…  _understand_."

"No I'm not! I'll understand!"

England finally stood, water dripped from his trousers and into the sand. He stepped to the pile of clothes, pulling out his shirt and boots. America followed after him, keeping one hand on his trousers, the other hand reached out to grasp England's pant leg.

"Pleaseplease _please_  England?" America nearly begged, his blue eyes huge and bright. "I want to know why!"

England pulled the shirt on, threading his arms through the sleeves. "I've already told you once, America. Not until your  _older_." His voice was sharp and held the edge of finality. It was the voice England used when meeting with the local lords and ladies, the politician and governors, criminals that happened upon his path, and dealing with his young upstart colony. "And if you don't stop asking, and ignoring my answers, you'll go to bed  _without_  dinner."

America paused, and realized their maid and house keeper, Mary, was out visiting family.  _That means…England is cooking._  Deciding that missing dinner wouldn't be too bad, America jerked on England's arm, forcing him to turn around and finally look at him.

England gasped in surprise and tore his arm from America's grip, his eyes narrowing into a glare. " _America_ -…" England growled, anger finally filtering into his voice.

"If you don't tell me then I'll just go up to one of the neighbor girls and find out  _myself!_ " America glared right back at him. "It's not fair! I want to know why!"

"What!" England gasped and lunged forward, clamping his hands onto America's shoulders. "You had  _better_  not!"

"Why?" America asked again. "What's wrong with asking?"

"It's indecent, improper-"

"But  _why_  is it all those things?"

England grew silent, his face slowly growing smooth. He leveled a glare at the boy.

"America." England said in a quiet, deadly serious voice. "If I so much as  _see_  you with another girl,  _without an adult_ , so help me I will ground you to your room for a  _week_."

"But…but I…" America started in a quiet, wavering voice. "I only wanted to know why…" His vision grew blurry as hot tears filled his eyes and spilt down his cheeks. "I…I don't know why you're being so  _mean_ …" His voice hitched, and a whimpering sob escaped.

England pulled away and picked up America's shirt and boots, helping him put them on.

"We're going home."

 

* * *

 

 

America buried his face into the goose feather pillow. Angry hot tears escaped, covering his face and soaking the cotton fabric.

_I only wanted to know why it's so improper…what's wrong with knowing?_

Once the two got home, England immediately disappeared into the kitchen, leaving America alone in the entryway.

_I…I should've listened to England... and now because of me… he's angry. Angry at_ _**me** _ _-_

There was a knock at his door.

America quickly rolled onto his stomach and buried his face into soft pillow. The door creaked open, and England entered, dishes twinkling and scraping against each other. The bed dipped, and something was placed at end of the mattress.

"America?"

America kept his face buried. His tiny fingers dug into the pillowed, twisting and clenching the fabric.

There was a sigh, and a hand gingerly touched his leg.

"America… please don't be upset." The hand encircled America's ankle, squeezing it. "I only said those things because I…I love you. I don't want you to grow up badly, without manners or inner conscience."

America sniffed and slowly pulled away from the pillow. His blue eyes red and puffy, his cheeks flushed and tear streaked.

"Your… you're not angry at me?"

England blinked at him.

" _Angry_? I'm not  _angry_  at you. I'm just concerned that-"

Relief poured into America, his breath caught in his throat, gasping and trying to keep himself calm. "Y-your… you're not angry? Really?" A fresh batch of tears started flooding his eyes.

"America,  _really_ , there's no need to be so upset-"

"B-but… you…  _you said_ -" Tears spilled over and covered his cheeks once again. "Y-you-" He gasped, his breath catching.

England leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the small colony. "America… are you this upset because… you thought I was  _angry_  at you?"

America buried his face into England's chest, crying and sniffing and generally making a mess of himself. England pressed his hands to America's back, rubbing the muscles and skin comfortingly.

"Shh~ stop your tears, there's nothing to be so worked up about…"

England dug into his pocket and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief. Carefully, gently, he pushed America away and swept the handkerchief across each blue eye, then swept down across his cheeks and nose, wiping away the snot the started running. Pulling away, England set the soiled cloth on the bedside end table and turned to the tray of food he brought in.

"B-but…" America gripped England's chest. "Shouldn't we… eat at the table?"  _That's proper…right?_

England leveled a calm gaze at the young boy.

"I think we can make an exception for tonight."

The two ate in silence, America chewing and swallowing the burnt food, forcing a smile on his face to indicate he was enjoying it, despite the horrid taste still lingering in his mouth. He quickly downed a glass of water once everything on his plate was gone, wishing to wash the taste away. England moved the tray to the top of the dresser and returned to the bed.

"America… you do understand why I said those things though… right?" England peered at the small colony. "All of use follow manners, we are not indecent or improper… you are a young gentleman, just like me."

America nodded slowly. "I'm a gentleman… and a good gentleman is proper… right?"

England nodded. "And just as I said before, I will… tell you about why, ah… women are different from… us. Just… not now. In the future. When you are older."

"Promise?" America stared at him, his eyes still red from crying.

England smiled and reached up to squeeze the boys shoulder.

"Promise."

 

* * *

 

Omake/Ending

"What?" America asked, embarrassment flooding his voice. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

"It's just… I can't believe how much you've grown…" England stared at him, trying to see the tiny boy he left years ago. "You've grown…so much. You're…"  _…you're even taller than_ _ **me**_ _now…_

America shrugged and leaned back against the steps of the porch the two sat on. After being gone for several years, England finally found the time to return and visit the small colony he'd come to love. However, the minute he stepped off the ship, instead of a laughing and grinning boy, stood a young man, his smile still holding all the previous excitement, but now it was muted with maturity. The boy had grown into a handsome young man. No longer would he run crying into his room at night when lightning and thunder woke him. No longer would the boy beg and plead him to play with the toy soldier's he gave him. No longer would he want to be with him at all moments of the day. He would find other things to occupy himself with.

"Well…" America shrugged. "It just… happened?"

England swallowed a sigh that nearly escaped.

"How have you been in my absence?"

"…Good." America said simply, his eyes bright. "I've had a lot of visitors recently-"

"Who?" England asked suddenly, his voice holding an edge of suspicion.

"Ah… local politians… governors and local lords and ladies… the usual." America forced a smile onto his face. "How have you been?"

"Busy. The  _frog_  has been nothing but a thorn in my side for years…" England growled. "But… I shouldn't be thinking of that right now." He turned to focus on his blossoming colony. "It is nice to finally see you after so long… but…"  _I wasn't expecting you to grow up so quickly… I had hoped you would stay young for even a little while longer…_  "But… I guess now that your older… there's a promise that I made that must be…  _fulfilled_." England finished with a wavering tone.

"A promise?" America asked. "What promise?"

"One that I made a while ago… it's… this is bad timing but… I promised and I always keep my promises. No matter  _what_  they are…"

America stared at him and tried remembering any promises England made with him when he last visited.

"It's… ah… about you and I… us being… uh… men… and… women…"

America stared at him incredulously, his eyebrows slowly disappearing into his hairline.

"And… well-"

"Wait, wait!" America held up a hand, his mouth twisted into a grin on the verge of laughing. "England… I already know about…  _that_."

England stared at him.

"You don't need to say anything." America sputtered quickly, a pink blush covering his cheeks. "It's okay-"

"Who told you?"

The grin abruptly fell from America's face.

"Oh… you know…" America started, his voice fleeting. "I just… found out."

England glared at him, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

America forced the grin back into place. "It's… it's nothing! See… I just found out… it's no big deal-"

"Who… _told you_?" England asked, his voice deadly calm.  _America wouldn't have found out just through the mindless, idle talk of_ _ **boys**_ _…Someone_ _ **told him**_ _…_

"Uh…yeah…see…" America strummed his finger's against the wooden porch steps. "That's… a funny thing-"

" _America._ "

America stared at England, biting his lip and worrying the frayed end of his shirt.

"It was France."


End file.
